Hooper and Holmes
by TheSapphireSky
Summary: "Morning," a strange sleep-rough, male voice interrupted Sherlock's morning musings over his breakfast. The bite of milk and cereal fell back into the bowl with a wet plop as he stared at the man who had just left Hooper's room, half-dressed. A Uni!lock Sherlolly Story


_AN: A little Uni!lock story based on a tumblr gifset by miss-rina-karpova_. ❤

"Morning," a strange sleep-rough, male voice interrupted Sherlock's morning musings over his breakfast. The bite of milk and cereal fell back into the bowl with a wet plop as he stared at the man who had just left Hooper's room, half-dressed.

John looked over his shoulder from pouring a cup of coffee and smiled politely at the stranger. "Erm, good morning."

The brown-haired man finished buttoning up his shirt and ran his fingers through his sleep-mussed hair before ducking into the loo.

Sherlock immediately turned to John and mouthed Did you know about him?

John just shrugged and turned back around to hide his smirk. Holmes had it coming to him. Ever since Molly had moved into the third room of their uni flat, the tension between the two of them had become stifling. On Sherlock's end, at least, the berk refusing to make a move on the sweet pathologist-to-be.

Fresh-faced, the stranger emerged again, his hair damp and slicked back to reveal wide brown eyes.

Sherlock stared at him, suddenly struck by a sense of familiarity, and tried to remember where he had seen that face before.

"Matt, wait! Don't forget your," Molly cried out as she rushed out of her room, clad in her yellow and white footie pyjamas. She blanched at seeing the full complement of Baker Street tenants staring at her. "Erm, bag," she finished lamely and held out a blue duffel bag.

"Thanks, Molly," Matt smiled and slid the strap over his shoulder before pressing a kiss to Molly's forehead. "I'll see you next weekend, yeah?"

"Yeah, now go, you're going to miss your train!" With a playfull shove, she pushed him toward the door. For a moment the only sound in the flat were thudding steps down the stairs and the slam of the outer door.

Appetite lost, Sherlock scraped his chair back and dumped his half-eaten cereal in the sink. Hooper eyed him curiously before hurrying back to her room.

Sipping his coffee, John smiled to himself. Things were about to get interesting.

oOo

"Oh, shoot!"

Sherlock and John both looked up from their school work to see Hooper rush out of her room, her arms over her head as she hopped up and down trying to reach the zipper on the back of her dress.

"Would one of you mind giving me a hand?" She looked at her flatmates beseechingly. When Sherlock didn't move from his chair, staring at her over the top of his laptop, John rolled his eyes and stood.

"Thank you, John." Hooper smiled.

"What's the occasion?" He asked as he drew the zipper up and fumbled with the little clasp.

She grinned and adjusted the high collar of the vintage-style lace dress so the string of pearls lay perfectly straight. "It's my auntie's nintieth birthday. The whole family is going out to her cottage to celebrate."

John raised his eyebrows and let out an impressed whistle, finally having managed the clasp. "Ninety? Blimey."

Hurrying over to the mirror on the mantle, Molly tucked her short hair behind her ears and fluffed her fringe. "Yep! She's outlived four husbands already. Uncle Freddy may end up being number five with his smoking habit."

They both side-eyed Sherlock, who averted his gaze quickly from Hooper back to his computer and aggressively began typing.

John smirked. "Will you need a ride?"

Gathering her pink wool coat and purse, Hooper shook her head. "Mattie's picking me up."

From outside, there was suddenly two short blasts from a car horn. Hooper lit up. "That's him now!" With a final check in the mirror, she slipped into her favourite dress shoes, a pair of cream-coloured ballet flats, and hurried out the door, waving good-bye to the boys.

"Don't wait up!" She called over her shoulder with a laughing lilt as she bounced down the stairs.

The moment she was out of sight, Sherlock was out of his seat and at the window. Below, the same brown-haired man that had interrupted his breakfast earlier that week, Matt, was leaning against a little blue car idling at the curb, but straightened when Hooper appeared. The two hugged and Sherlock caught a glimpse of Hooper's smile before they broke apart and got into the car. He watched them pull away and disappear around the corner.

"Molly sure looked pretty, eh, mate?"

Ignoring the bait, Sherlock scowled and snatched up his discarded laptop before storming into his room, slamming the door for good measure.

oOo

"You could help, you know."

Sherlock grunted noncommittally from the other side of the room and continued thumbing through his mobile. Disgruntled, John returned to folding the laundry on the only clean corner of the kitchen table, occasionally chucking a sock or pair of pants that had been stuck in with his at Sherlock, who only smirked.

"Well, well, well. I don't think these are yours." Sherlock lifted his eyes at John's laugh and blanched at the pair of bright green and blue polka dotted pants hanging from John's finger.

They both stared at the boxers and jumped when Hooper appeared in the doorway, gasping in surprise.

"That's where they went!" She snatched them from John and wrinkled her nose at the sight before stuffing them in the outer pocket of her large bag. "Matt's been whinging all week that he lost his lucky pair. Should have known he left them here, the lazy sod can't be bothered to pick up after himself."

"Sounds like someone else I know."

John raised his eyebrows and couldn't resist looking past Molly to Sherlock, who had turned an interesting shade of puce. It was mean, but he couldn't resist a snicker. The arrogant sod was always boasting about how John "saw, but didn't observe" yet Sherlock had missed one vital piece of information regarding Matt that John had seen right away.

But it's probably hard to see anything when your head is so far up your own bum.

Hooper laughed and looked over at Sherlock and the mess of clothes surrounding him, a fond longing in her eyes. "Yeah. But we love them anyway."

Sherlock studiously pretended to ignore them.

A light blush on her cheeks, Molly tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled at John. "Well, I should, er, let Matt know his lucky pants have been found in one piece."

With one last glance at Sherlock, she pulled out her mobile and disappeared into her room.

"Lucky pants?" John sniggered, waggling his eyebrows at Sherlock, who was glaring a hole into Hooper's bedroom door.

Holmes scowled and retaliated by chucking his mobile and a nearby book at John.

"Oi!" John ducked, unhurt, but his mirth turned to dismay as his neat piles of folded laundry were hit and toppled to the floor. It was on the tip of his tongue to lash out at the berk. But Sherlock had already curled up, back to the room, no doubt deep in his thoughts.

Taking a few even breaths, John began re-folding his clothes, cursing under his breath about repressed tightwads and blind idiots.

oOo

"Bloody hell! Get out!"

At the shout, John bolted into the common area, brandishing a butter knife (and dripping jam on the floor) in one hand and a piece of bread in the other, to see Holmes being stalked backward out of Molly's room by an irate Matt. The shorter man was wearing pyjama bottoms and an open button-up with a serious case of bed hair. And he looked ready to murder Sherlock. Judging by the surprising muscles on him, he probably could.

"What do you think you're doing?" Matt was demanding to know, his voice rough with sleep and threatening.

Holmes returned his glare. "I could ask you the same thing."

Matt stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. "I was changing!"

"Yes. In Molly's room."

John raised his eyebrows and slowly lowered his weapon, but didn't retreat. He had an inkling things were about come to head between the repressed tightwad and Molly's mysterious mate.

"Obviously!" Matt growled. "Now I want to know what you were doing barging into her room."

Knowing his flatmates, it probably had to do with some experiment they were conducting in the university lab. And the fact that Sherlock had no boundaries.

But before Holmes could attempt to explain himself, the door to the shared bathroom opened and a wall of steam rolled into the room as Molly hurried out, hastily tying the belt of her yellow fluffy robe. "What is going on?"

"This pervert walked right into your room while I was changing. That could have been you, Molly! I told you something like this would happen," Matt snapped and shoved Sherlock back a step. "Living in the big city with two strange men, and I mean that in more than one way, is asking for trouble."

Holmes drew himself up in offense and even John narrowed his eyes in anger.

"Oh, shut up, Matt."

All three men turned to Molly in surprise. "I'm not a child any more, so stop treating me like one. John and Sherlock are my friends, not strangers."

"But he just barged into your room without any warning-" Matt pointed accusingly at Sherlock.

"So what?" Molly shrugged. "I'm an adult. Men can come into my room. And even if Holmes had ulterior motives, which I highly doubt he did, I think seeing a naked woman would break him."

John snorted as Sherlock flushed dark red.

"But Molly-"

"Go to my room, Matty," she cut him off and pointed at the door. "And for God's sake, button up your shirt."

Scowling, Matt glared at her in a stand-off before turning on his heel and stalking away, slamming the door behind him for good measure.

Brushing her still-wet hair from her face, Molly huffed loudly. "Sorry about Matt. Sometimes he forgets that I'm not eight-years-old anymore. The overprotective git."

Holmes looked between her and the door, a lightbulb going off in his head. "He's your older brother."

Ding ding ding. John didn't even try to keep his smirk in check, revelling in the smug moment as he took a bite of his jam on toast and settled in to watch the unfolding.

"Only by 2 minutes," Hooper grumbled, then looked at Sherlock in bemusement. "Wait, you didn't know?"

John would forever remember the look on Sherlock's face. It was a lovely combination of frustration, dawning realisation, and relief.

"So you thought-" Her eyes widened as she pointed at herself. "Oh my god, no! No, he's just been bunking with me while he's interviewing for a post downtown!"

It was like Holmes had found the one key piece of a vexing puzzle and suddenly everything was coming together.

"The varying stays, the lucky pants," he mumbled. "Brown hair and eyes, short stature, even the facial structure is similar. How did I miss that?"

"Because you're a blind, jealous idiot."

Holmes and Hooper both looked at John in surprise. Belatedly realising he had spoken out loud, John froze in the middle of taking another bite.

"Thank you for your input, Watson," Sherlock growled, a telling blush on his cheeks.

Recognizing he had overstayed his welcome to the party, John retreated into the kitchen. Out of sight. But not out of earshot.

There was an awkward silence. Then…

"Were you jealous, really?" Molly looked up at Sherlock questioningly, worrying the ends of her fluffy belt.

"Of course not."

Her face fell. "Oh."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Holmes conceded, "Maybe a little."

Her cheeks dimpled as she tried to hold back her smile. "Oh?"

"Well, how was I supposed to know I liked you?" He blurted out angrily. "You're my friend, my flatmate, and quite possibly the most brilliant girl I know. That didn't mean I liked you. But then seeing him walk out of your bedroom one morning…I hated him on sight."

Her smile was a foregone conclusion as she watched him pace, gesturing wildly, as if he had been holding back so many emotions and unleashed them all at once.

"Then you were there in a dress with that yellow thing in your hair. Suddenly, you weren't Hooper anymore." He stopped and looked at her. "I mean, you were, you are. But now you're so much more."

He swallowed thickly. "You're Molly."

The three seconds following his admission were excruciating. It was only when Molly walked over to him that he breathed in. Her hands came up to frame his face and then she was kissing him, softly, sweetly. All too shortly.

Rocking back onto her heels, she smiled at him. "I like you, too. Sherlock."

He took a shaky breath and grinned lopsidedly. "Good. That's, erm, good."

"I'm just, erm, going to finish getting around" she nodded her head toward the loo. "Then maybe we can get some coffee?"

"We're out of coffee," he frowned. "John drank the last of it this morning."

Molly bit her lip and rested her head on his sternum for a second as she tried not to laugh. "I meant go out for coffee, silly. To a cafe. As in, a date."

He needed to stop blushing. "Oh. Right. Yes, that," he cleared his throat. "That would be nice."

"Give me ten minutes." Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she swept away, leaving Sherlock to stare after her, that same lopsided smile on his face.

"A fair warning, Holmes." Matt's sudden appearance made Sherlock jump, the smile vanishing. The shorter brunette was leaning against Molly's bedroom door, arms crossed. "Hurt her in any way and I will end you."

Sherlock nodded. Despite believing he would be able to overpower the other man, better not to poke the brother bear at this time.

After all, he had a date to get ready for.


End file.
